


Dorje

by DreamWeaverStarSweeper



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-11
Updated: 2014-12-11
Packaged: 2018-03-01 01:11:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2754011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreamWeaverStarSweeper/pseuds/DreamWeaverStarSweeper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Dorje. The name still didn’t feel right, but it’s all he could remember being called. Each man and woman earned his or her name once they fully joined the League of Assassins. Until then, they remained nameless. "</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dorje

**Author's Note:**

> This is a short fic I started a week ago, before the mid-season finale, and most of the plot remains the same. However, due to some major plot changes in the actual show, I decided to make some edits. It's not my best, but I felt like I needed to finish it. So, here's how I imagine the story could continue from here. Please don't read if you haven't seen 3x09 SPOILERS AWAIT. Also, side note, the original idea for this fic was actually inspired by the beautiful and heartbreaking song Not Alone by Patty Griffin. If you love Olicity as much as I do, go listen to it!

“You are not alone.”  
The words echoed quietly in his head. He felt a delicate touch on his temple, lips fluttering over his skin. He reached out and felt soft skin and silky hair. The tendrils curled around his fingers and then they were gone. Slowly, he opened his eyes. A beautiful face smiled back at him; gentle lips curved, blue eyes shining. An orange glow washed over her, blinding him. He blinked and she was gone.  
He lay in a bed at the center of a warm room. Curtains billowed out, blown by a warm summer breeze. He could hear birds, seagulls, calling in the distance. He was alone.  
He studdied his hand as he ran his thumb over his fingertips and palm, feeling the residual softness of the phantom hair.  
The shrieking of the birds grew closer and louder. He swung his legs off the bed and stumbled to the open window. He brushed the curtain aside. Ice cold wind whipped at his face and a sharp pain exploded under his ribs. Red blotched his vision. He reeled back, colliding with the bed. The screeching was deafening. It wasn’t birds, it was bullets, bombs, people screaming, and warping metal. He pulled his hand away and blood ran dark from the bullet hole in his stomach. He jerked and fell to the floor. As his head hit the ground it all went black.  
He sat up gasping for air. He was in a cold and dark room, lying on a thin cot, drenched in sweat. His hand found the spot under his ribs, no blood. There was however, a thin, pink scar, not from a bullet, but from a blade. He shook his head and wiped sweat from his brow.  
The man in the cot next to him handed him a leather flask. “Bad dream, Dorje?”  
Dorje. The name still didn’t feel right, but it’s all he could remember being called. Each man and woman earned his or her name once they fully joined the League of Assassins. Until then, they remained nameless.  
“Thank you.” Dorje took a swig of water and passed the flask back. Tenzin sat up in his cot, almost bumping his knees against Dorje’s.  
“I guess since we’re up, we should get going. Besides, it wouldn’t hurt to beat all these late sleepers to breakfast.” Tenzin motioned to the other eight bodies sleeping soundly in their cots.  
Dorje stretched his strong arms up over his head. His chest was bare but covered in scars. These scars were as familiar to him as his body. It was only the name that felt foreign. The others assured him that soon the name would be as familiar as his body, as if he were born with it, because, in their mind, he was. But deep down, Dorje couldn’t forget that he was someone else before. He doesn’t remember who, he doesn’t remember his life, but he knows one thing, he remembers that face and her voice.  
After dressing, Dorje followed Tenzin to the mess hall, but Nyssa Al Ghul stood blocking their entrance.  
“Dorje, Father requires your presence.”  
Tenzin rested his hand on Dorje’s shoulder with a quirk of his lip and slid through the door.  
***

Dorje kneeled on the cold stone floor while Raj Al Ghul stood before him. “You have come a long way Dorje from when we found you freezing on the mountain. You have become one of us, one of The League. And now it is your turn to prove your loyalty to us.”  
Dorje didn’t move. He kept his head down but watched the Demon Head’s feet walk back and forth in front of him.  
“I have your task. You are to go to this address.”  
He handed a slip of rough paper to Dorje.  
“Canvas the building and kill anyone inside. Do not hesitate. Do not let them speak. They will try to convince you to let them live. Do not listen, their words are poison and lies.”  
Dorje nodded and stood.  
“I will see you when you return.” 

***  
He entered the cold, concrete room with his bow raised and an arrow ready. His was surprisingly calm. His heartbeat was steady and slow; his breathing was normal and his concentration sharp. He silently glided down the stairs and scanned the open space. The club above had been empty, the stools at the bar covered in sheets. Dust had collected and the lights were off. But here, there were metal tables, work out equipment, and glass cases full of arrows and one green-leather suit. As his eyes fell on the suit he felt drawn to it. He knew this suit, but from where. The bow dropped an inch as he approached the glass case and studied the suit. Someone had taken great care when making it. They added small details of braided leather over the shoulders. And it was patched here and there with expert stitching. There was a small green mask, just large enough to cover the cheekbones resting on a head form above the suit.  
“Oliver?”  
A small voice echoed behind him and something shattered on the concrete floor. He whirled around, bringing the bow back up. A small blond woman stood in the center of the room; a coffee mug lay in pieces at her feet. Her lips were parted and her eyes wide. Neither of them moved for what felt like a lifetime.  
Dorje’s heart was now beating hard, and his mind was racing. One woman. This is whom Raj Al Ghul wants him to kill. But why? She did not look like a threat. She did, however, look familiar.  
“Are you really here?”  
Her question pulled him out of his trance.  
“Who are you?!” he demanded.  
Her eyebrows knitted together and she took a step towards him.  
“Stop!” he pulled the string of his bow back.  
She froze. “Oliver, you don’t remember me?” her voice trembled.  
“My name is not Oliver. It’s Dorje.” He growled, trying to regain his composure and remember his training.  
Kill anyone inside. Do not hesitate. Don’t let them speak; their words are poison and lies.

The command echoed in his mind. He ignored it. He needed to know who she was. Where he knew her from. “Who are you?” he repeated.  
“Felicity. Felicity Smoak.” she paused, “We’re friends.”  
“No, I don’t have friends. I am alone.”  
“You are not alone.” she said it so quickly and with such conviction.  
He stumbled back from her, as if her words struck him physically. He dropped the bow. A dark room flashed across his eyes, she was standing in front of him again but she was covered in blood, her blood. The shock of the memory and all the emotional pain that came with it forced him to his knees. He pressed the heel of his hands into his eyes and groaned.  
“Oliver?!” She was kneeling next to him. Tentatively, she placed her hand on his shoulder. He flinched and looked up at her, his eyes full of pain and confusion.  
“Fight it Oliver. Come back to me.” She was crying now. Slowly, she took his face between her hands and forced him to look in her eyes. “Please, remember who you are. You are Oliver Queen, the Arrow and savior of Starling City. Remember your mother, Moira, and your father, Robert. Remember Thea and Roy. And Diggle and Sara. Remember Laurel and Tommy. Please Oliver. Remember me.”  
Oliver was crying now too. Because he did remember. With every name he remembered.  
He remembered his fight with Raj Al Ghul. He remembered the blade slicing into him. He remembered everyone he loved. He remembered Felicity, the last person he saw as he closed his eyes and welcomed death. The one person he could not forget, the one person the League couldn’t wipe from his memory.  
His hands came up to wipe her tears away and he rested his forehead against hers.  
“Felicity.” he whispered.  
She sobbed and placed kisses all over his face. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. She hugged him tight, burying her face in his neck.  
“I knew you weren’t dead. I knew it couldn’t be true.”  
She pulled away to look at him.  
“Oliver,” she whispered. “I love you. I wanted to scream it after you when you left. I’m sorry I didn’t. I love you Oliver.”  
The last moment they had together came flooding back to him. He ran his hand into her hair and pulled her into a passionate kiss. Both of them poured their love for the other into that one kiss.  
Felicity pulled away with a small sob.  
“I’m sorry. It’s just, I’ve dreamed of doing that every day since you walked out of that door. I can’t believe you’re really back.”  
“Shhh. Its ok. I’m sorry I didn’t come back sooner. I’m sorry.” He rested his lips against her forehead.  
“Don’t ever leave me again.”  
Oliver closed his eyes and tried to imagine what the last few months had been like for her, Roy, and John. Gently, he pulled her away so he could look at her face.  
“Where are they?”  
She didn’t meet his eyes. “Nyssa told us you were dead Oliver, we had no real reason to not believe her.”  
“Felicity, where are John and Roy.”  
“John is a fiercely, over-protective, stay-at-home father.” She smiled a little, but it didn’t reach her eyes.  
“And Roy?”  
She looked away. “He’s gone.”  
“Gone?”  
“He suited up and never came back. I know he’s still in Starling City. He’s still Arsenal, but he refuses to come back here.”  
“And Thea?”  
Again she dropped her eyes. “She’s with Merlyn”  
His heart squeezed thinking about his sister and what had happened before he left. Does she know that it was Merlyn who coercered her into killing Sarah. Does she know anything? He has to find her. His thoughts were racing with Thea when something else struck him.  
“Felicity, what are you doing here?”  
“I… what do you mean?”  
“No one else is here but you. Everyone else has given up on me. But you are here. Why?”  
“ I come here every night.” she looked down sheepishly. “I’ve been looking for any signs of you.”  
“So it’s just you here.”  
“I... I knew that if you were alive, you’d come back here.”  
“So, the others, they haven’t been here in months?”  
“Oliver, they thought you were dead. We all did.”  
“No, it’s not that. Felicity, I was sent here to kill the people in this building. You are the only one here. I was sent here to kill you. Raj Al Ghul wanted me to kill the only person who was still looking for me.”  
“Oh.”  
“We have to get out of here.”  
He pulled her up, grabbed her hand, and raced to the stairs. But he came up short.  
Nyssa stood in front of the exit. He didn’t even hear her enter the foundry.  
“So.” she crooned. “You’ve found your light.”  
Oliver stepped in front of Felicity.  
“Don’t worry Oliver. I’m not here to hurt her. I’m here to inform you that you’ve passed your test.”  
Oliver didn’t dare to move.  
“You have proved your worth.” Nyssa stepped to the side and opened the door into the alleyway.  
Slowly, keeping Felicity behind him and Nyssa in his view, Oliver walked up the stairs towards the door. He was ready to fight at any moment. Ready to swing Felicity over the railing to safety. He could feel her hands bunched into the back of his shirt.  
“Father knew you were not Sarah’s killer. He knew you were protecting someone. So, when Measo returned with you, still alive, father decided you deserved the chance to return to your life. You had fought for it, after all.”  
Oliver kept himself between Nyssa and Felicity as they got closer to the door.  
“So that’s it?” he said, as he pushed Felicity into the open air.  
“That is it. He sent you here hoping that you would remember. Hoping that you were not so easy to break. Now you have proven yourself to my father. You are free.”  
Oliver stared at her, trying to process everything, trying to read Nyssa. Was it real? Was he really free?  
He felt a tug on his hand. Felicity threaded her fingers in with his, and then she pulled him towards the end of the alleyway.  
“Come on. Let’s go home.”  
“Do you want to know what Dorje means?” Nyssa called after them. He turned, still holding Felicity’s hand.  
“Indomitable. Indestructible. Fitting, don’t you think?”  
Oliver gave her a small smile, and turned back to Felicity. He followed her out of the dark alleyway and into the morning light.


End file.
